Cherry Cho Chang Potter,
The Chinese Fighting Dog
May 20, 2007-May 28, 2022
Cherry Potter passed away this weekend, quietly and peacefully. Her persons are desolate; she was with us for more than 14 years.
Cherry’s origins have always been mysterious. She may have arrived at a shelter in Oregon, then was brought, we know, to Echo Glen Juvenile Detention Center east of Seattle. Dogs there were paired with young men and women who had behaved badly but who were settling back into society enough that they were rewarded with the task of training a dog.
Sadly, Cherry’s trainer, Justin, was unable to overcome her instincts. Though he did train her somewhat, we have no idea in what, as she abandoned those habits immediately upon our adoption of her. At her graduation, she paid little attention to Justin and was mainly interested in the other dogs.
Yet once when we were at a pool in Vancouver, BC, I relinquished Cherry to a lifeguard so I could make a badly-needed visit to a restroom. When I returned, Cherry was lying on the ground, and the lifeguard turned her hand in a circle, and Cherry rolled over. What the hell. The lifeguard admitted that she had been a dog trainer. Cherry never rolled over again, no matter how hard we tried.
It was more than 14 years ago that Nancy found her and brought her to her new home. Nancy was rewarded by having a dark-haired dog follow her around worshipfully ever after. Cherry would raise her face tentatively, as if not wanting to offend. Even at the end, when her back side had gone, if Nancy left her chair, Cherry would struggle to stand and follow Nancy.
Cherry’s origins were a mystery. A DNA test revealed her to have the genes of a shar pei, lab, Jack Russell terrier, German shepherd, pug, and perhaps a few other things. She was the quintessential American melting pot.
But she was definitely a Chinese fighting dog. Early in her life, she would jump up and start nibbling on our chests. Once, I thought, well, I can play with her, and grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back and forth. “Grrrrr,” she warned me. “GRRRRRR.” OK, enough.
But she only did that at night; it was as if someone flipped a switch. We used to say that she was a lab by day, shar pei by night.
Dr. Penn at Winslow Animal Clinic averred regretfully, “No, shar peis aren’t very social.” Cherry could not have been said to have been very affectionate for much of her life. She didn’t necessarily want to be petted; she’d walk up to just outside of petting distance and simply stand there. She wasn’t overly demonstrative, but she knew that we were her pack.
Though Cherry wasn’t showy about it, she was a loyal, attentive companion and had a steady, gentle, reassuring presence. When Nancy was recovering from cancer surgery, Cherry was her faithful and abiding nurse. They took a nap on the bed together every afternoon, and Nancy is convinced that Cherry’s pure love and simple, sweet energy speeded the healing process.
Cherry was a Dog. It was difficult to anthropomorphize her, which would have been a disservice anyway.
She did not suffer from guilt or shame. Kate was little when we got Cherry, and if she left the door open a crack, Cherry would be gone. Once she left for three hours, then came back, hidey-ha, I need a drink of water now. Eventually she realized that she was getting fed at our house so ran away less often. We are not sure, frankly, how bright she was.
After about nine years of Cherry being an only dog, we acquired Lord Santorini, Duke of York, a Yorkiedoodle. He demanded affection at all times. Cherry seemed to learn from this, and, as her time with us and Santorini went on, she began to be more affectionate. Which means that she would edge up within three feet of one of us so we could try to pet her. But no farther.
She didn’t chase animals like an earlier dog, Miss Marple, and, late in her life, she went deaf so only barked when Santorini started up, relying slyly on Santorini for clues. Usually she faced the opposite direction of this or that delivery driver, but it was the thought that counted.
As Kate once told a friend, Cherry and Santorini weren’t besties, but they got along. When one of them returned from a day away at the vet, he/she got a good sniffing by the other. When Santorini ate two uncooked pizzas from Town & Country and spent the next day on the sofa, Cherry looked out for him.
True, at the end, she got a little goofy. She started devouring dead leaves, and, like a Kentuckian, she started eating mud. She must have had her reasons.
At the end of her life, she became much more affectionate, demanding petties like Santorini did. We were all so glad to give them, as she was so elderly we knew that she couldn’t last forever. And finally she did not.
Nancy, Kate, and George’s hearts are broken. We imagine that Santorini’s is too. We will always miss Cherry Cho Chang Potter, the Chinese Fighting Dog, and her sweet, unassuming, steadfast friendship.
Right now we know that she's in Dog Heaven, talking to prior dogs Miss Marple and General Sir Roscoe Pound Plant: “What did you make of those humans?” Miss Marple is asking. Cherry shrugs her strong dog shoulders. “Woof if I know.” Roscoe nods sagely. Off they go, looking for dinner.
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